A Prayer to St Valentine
by RaphaellaLacey
Summary: Shelagh and Patrick celebrate their first ever Valentine's Day :) think it will end up as three-shot.
1. Chapter 1 - Rose-tinted

**Thanks so much to reviewer of 'A Journey Begins', Nik, who made the suggestion of doing Turnadette's Valentine's day. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so look out for updates :)**

When Shelagh awoke on February 14th, the first thing she did was to reach for her glasses on the bedside table. When she opened the case, instead of her glasses, she found nestled inside a small pink rose. Attached to the stem with a piece of string was a tag, her doctor's recognisable scrawl covering both sides. Shelagh bit her lip elatedly, exhaling to try to keep her heart from fluttering clean away. She could sense Patrick was awake beside her; the bedroom was too still, tingling with an expectant silence instead of the usual low hum of her husband's sleeping breaths. Still facing away from him, propped up on her elbow, she let a grin overcome her then composed herself and rolled over to meet his twinkling eye. "Patrick, my love. How do you expect me to read this note if I don't have any glasses?"

"Oh yes, how silly of me," he laughed, before producing them from his bedside drawer and handing them over, letting his hand brush hers for a moment longer than necessary. Shelagh took the rose, turned the tag over, and with a rapidly beating heart began to read...

_To my adorable Valentine... This rose is from the trellis behind the garden bench at Nonnatus. Your blush is the very same hue as the tips of the petals, and often I would often go to that bench to be reminded of you._

"Really?" was all Shelagh could say, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

"As many times as I could get away with without arousing suspicion," he replied. "Your blushes soon became both my torment and my favourite thing about you - because they meant you were feeling something too." He stroked her cheek, crumbling at how astonished his young wife looked at his confession. "Amazing girl," he murmured, "then and now, you are so unaware of how breathtaking you are, and the affect you have, without even knowing it." His expression showed something ardently intense and Shelagh startled, her mind running away from her as she forced herself to believe that someone was saying this sort of thing to her. "So beautiful," he went on, vaguely, finding himself falling once more into the intoxicating depths of her eyes. "You have no idea how you make me feel-"

"I think I do," she whispered back, "because you make me feel that way too."

"What way?" he pressed.

"This way..." And she closed the gap between them, pulling her body flush against him, her lips pressing confidently into his, her hand, still clutching the rose, curled just above his hammering heart. He brought his hands to hold her against him, letting his fingers run through her hair and tantalisingly down her spine. He smiled against her lips, pulling gently away and laughing as the recently so timid Shelagh immediately tried to bring his mouth back to hers with a moan of protestation.

"As much as I could do this all day, you're supposed to be on call, and I have an appointment at ten o'clock," he insisted, taking the rose and tucking it into Shelagh's tousled mane before making his way to the bathroom. Within seconds, he was back again, leaning round the doorframe, grinning from ear to ear.

"I love you too," he breathed, laughing in exhilaration. Shelagh had come back from a very late delivery the night before to find her husband already in bed. She had taken the opportunity to leave a surprise Valentine's message on the bathroom mirror, written in her elegant copperplate hand in crimson lipstick: _You are a wonderful man and I love you_, this simple proclamation outlined with a heart.

The couple's adoring gaze was broken a few seconds later by an appearance from Timothy, toothbrush in hand. "I suppose that message is directed at dad, and not me."

Shelagh grinned. "You're not quite a man yet Timothy," she giggled, "but you are wonderful." Satisfied, the small boy wandered off to finish his ablutions, and his father was left once again marvelling at the aptitude his wife had for saying just the right thing. He must have been staring at her, for she broke the contact, tilting her head demurely to her lap (and yes, the delicate flush that prickled her cheeks matched the pink of the rose perfectly, thought Patrick with contentment). "Sorry," he said, "I was just thinking how bloody marvellous you are." She blushed even deeper, her gaze flicking back up to his, something between shock and desire burning in the agate depths of her eyes.

"Go away or I'll have to kiss you again and make us both late," she ordered huskily.

He disobeyed.

**Please review if you have the time :)**


	2. Chapter 2 - Side-tracked

**Just a quick one to ease myself back in to fic writing... So sorry for the long delay - there came a point when revision had to get a look in somewhere! Reviews would be greatly appreciated, I feel like I've got rusty after all these weeks :P**

The effects of too much romance had indeed made the Turner household run a little late. Shelagh threw on her uniform and dashed downstairs, putting the rose in a glass of water on the kitchen table, and tucking the note in her pocket to be read and re-read when waiting at Nonnatus for the phone to ring got tedious later on. She had a special Valentine's Day breakfast planned for her husband and step-son; earlier that week over lunch with the other nurses and the nuns, tales of romantic gestures were swopped and swooned over, and Shelagh, who was more excited than she cared to admit about her first Valentine's day as a lover, had listened with wide eyes and the beginnings of dreamy notions in her head. This particular idea was the cook Mrs B's; all of Nonnatus were curious to be informed if it actually worked... When Patrick and Timothy unsuspectingly sat down for breakfast, they were served with edible proof of Shelagh's affection, and there was amazed laughter all round. She had managed to cut a heart shape out of the centre of pieces of toast, and had fried an egg in the cavity. She was clearly very pleased with herself, and was grinning like the Cheshire cat all morning, her triumph made all the greater when Chummy reported her attempt to have been a colossal failure. Timothy wolfed his breakfast down. "Timmy, slow down or you'll give yourself a stomach ache," reproved his father.

"But I'm late for school," the little boy exclaimed. "Unless of course you want me to have to explain to my teacher that I missed registration because my mum and dad were being slushy."

"Timothy!" exclaimed Shelagh and Patrick simultaneously, casting exasperated looks at each other and squirming with embarrassment.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Timothy," Shelagh said swiftly, "you won't be late. I don't think you've inherited your father's complete inability to get anywhere on time." Timothy grinned and helpfully cleared the plates away before rushing out the door.

Shelagh smiled coyly at her husband as she took his plate, crossing to the sink and running the taps to wash up quickly before leaving for Nonnatus. Patrick watched her for a few moments, still revelling in how exquisite her petite figure was, and in being allowed to see it properly. A wisp of fair hair had escaped from the confines of its tidy pleat and was snaking down the porcelain curve of her neck. Patrick traced it with his eyes, a heavy desire to trail kisses in its place growing with every second. Shelagh concentrated on methodically washing the crockery piece by piece, trembling as she felt his gaze burn the back of her neck. Never in all her life had she imagined adoration could have such a physical manifestation; it was like an electric charge from his eyes that made the hairs on her skin quiver. With the gushing sound of the water in her ears she did not notice Patrick approaching her from behind until it was too late. She yelped as he pressed his lips behind her ear, dropping the mug she was holding into the sink. It smashed, but neither of them reacted. Patrick was too busy scorching his wife's neck with kisses, and Shelagh was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. Patrick leant back and tucked the escaped tendril into its proper place, his fingers grazing the nape of her neck as he did so. Momentarily released from where he had trapped her against the sink, Shelagh turned round to look into his eyes and was met with that familiar compassionate, doting expression. Grinning wildly, as she always did when he looked at her like that, she kissed him briefly on the lips and wriggled free.

"I'll leave you to sort that mug out, after all, it was your fault I dropped it," she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

"It was your fault for being so irresistible," Patrick protested.

"Well I'll put my wimple back on if that's what's worrying you," came the exclamation from the hall. "Now go to work!"

**Please review if you have the time :)**


	3. Chapter 3 - Opinionated

**Thanks for the reviews :) Here's the final installment...**

Shelagh arrived at Nonnatus just in time to help clear away the breakfast things. As she made her way towards the dining room she could make out the raised voice of Sister Evangelina, interspersed with flustered, unintelligible responses from Chummy and violent giggles from the other midwives. "Let's ask Nurse Turner her opinion," pouted Trixie no sooner had Shelagh stepped into the room.

"Go on then," she sighed, unbuttoning her coat and affecting a low, measured tone, the same she applied when trying to explain herself to uncooperative mothers. "By the sounds of it you need a mediator - what's all this about?"

Trixie perched on the edge of the table and lit a cigarette. "Sister Evangelina has spent breakfast being disparaging about Valentine's Day," she sighed. "We were trying to quiz Chummy about hers, and the poor girl couldn't get a word in, Sister has such a depth of opinion."

"I can't say I'm too displeased," said Chummy, lowering her voice as she passed Shelagh to get to the kitchen. "It's like the Spanish Inquisition, make your escape now, while you still can."

Sister Evangelina had a new audience, and was not going to waste her opportunity. She put down the plates she was holding and turned to face Shelagh. "All this Valentine's Day nonsense. It's just consumerised, commercialised sentimentality, a way of getting people to spend too much money on frivolous rubbish."

"I think we've heard all this before," came a weary voice from the chair in the corner, where Sister Monica Joan had escaped the morning's chores and taken up her knitting.

"It's capitalistic society exploiting a religious concept and trivialising it," continued Evangelina, ignoring her Sister's sarcastic objection. "It's about making money and forgetting what Saint Valentine's original purpose in the Lord was."

Sister Julienne smiled and took a cautious breath, ready to resume her well practised role as peace-maker, but she was stopped in her tracks as Shelagh rose to the occasion.

"It's about love," she cut in, firmly, speaking with such evident sincerity that everyone found themselves stopping to listen. She was still standing in the doorway; her hands were clasped timidly in front of her, but her eyes were alive and flaming behind her glasses. "And that happens to be my purpose in the Lord. And it's yours too, just in a different guise."

"Oh, give me strength," the frustrated nun interrupted, stubbornness ingrained upon her darkened features. "You're just as bad as the loved-up young nurses."

"She is a loved-up young nurse," reminded Fred, who had crept in to see what all the fuss was about.

"It is a silly bit of fun, but ultimately you can't argue it's not about love," continued Shelagh, louder now, the comforting Scottish brogue ringing into the silence. "_And now abide faith, hope, love, these three, but the greatest of these is love_," she quoted plainly. "Is anything that's promoting love worthless?"

"Corinthians," smiled Julienne in wonder, "you've forgotten nothing."

"I should hope not," chuckled Shelagh, flushed and now considerably embarrassed as everyone was staring in her direction. She was particularly worried, and had every right to be, when she saw Trixie's delighted and impish expression.

"Someone's had a nice morning," she grinned after a pause.

"Trixie!" exclaimed Sister Julienne.

"I'm sorry Sister, but Shelagh's not a nun anymore, and therefore no longer exempt from teasing. Is the good doctor a helpless romantic then? I can't quite imagine it. Actually no, I can-"

The nuns coughed before Trixie could complete her sentence; the nurses pretended to cough to conceal horrified giggles. Shelagh blushed crimson, but couldn't help laughing too. She was in such a buoyant mood she could remain serious for long, and delicious memories insisted on setting off butterflies in her stomach and making secret smiles creep across her lips at every mention of romance. Patrick's gesture with the rose, his childishly elated reaction to her own romantic ideas ... their lingering kiss by the sink. She was glad no one in the room was a mind reader.

"Alright, Nurse Turner, I can see your point," sighed Sister Evangelina, taking up her pile of plates once more and snatching the last piece of cake from under Fred's nose. "You always did have an infuriating capacity for making people see sense."

Sister Julienne smiled at Shelagh, a contented sigh escaping her as she received a sparkling grin in return. How she loved to see Shelagh looking so radiant after so many months of searching Sister Bernadette's colourless, red-rimmed eyes, her own heart breaking at the look of sheer weariness she found there. It was now over a year since those times of burden, and she knew Shelagh's happiness had no reason falter now she was the much-loved Doctor Turner's wife, but she still found herself requiring a snatch of her young friend's melodious laughter every day to put her mind at rest. "As much as we could stand here talking all day, I'm afraid our work needs seeing to," she addressed the room, smirking. "Valentine's day, commercialised rubbish or not, is just another day when it comes to deliveries."

"It's not just another day in other respects though," exclaimed Sister Evangelina. "Mark my words, in nine months' time when you're drowning in babies you won't be so pro-Valentine's Day, I can tell you."

Cynthia hastily changed the subject. "Shelagh, did you by any chance take my nail brush by accident when we left Mrs Day's house yesterday?"

"Hang on, I'll take a look," came the reply. When she opened her delivery bag to check, she found herself unable to see the contents as every available space had been filled with a rainbow of origami hearts and animals. She broke out into peals of laughter, closely followed by the other nurses. "Oh, he's impossible," she cried, beginning to scoop them out. "How on earth did he find the time to do all this, for goodness sake?"

"See," chortled Sister Evangelina. "Another peril of Valentine's Day. What if you'd not checked your bag before a call?"

Shelagh chucked an orange origami frog at her, and a truce was called.

In the following weeks, paper creatures kept being discovered all around Nonnatus House, for the nuns, an exasperation; for Shelagh Turner a small reminder of the joy and creativity of her first Valentine's Day with her remarkable Doctor.

**End. Please tell me what you thought, writing is the only thing keeping me sane as AS levels wear on :)**


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